Fallout: Tunnel Rats
by Roland Farqueson
Summary: When some Super Mutants take the last remaining Nuclear bomb from London. It's left to an uneasy alliance of a mercenary company and a faction of the Brotherhood of Steel to save the city.
1. Chapter 1

_**Fallout: Tunnel Rats**_

As dawn rose over the once vibrant city of London no birds sang, no larks, no robins not even the pigeons could be heard. They hadn't be heard in a long time no one alive could even remember what they looked like any more, there were drawings but who in their right mind would take time to look at a book to find out about a pointless creature?

You could hear the dogs howling and scrapping amongst themselves but they weren't exactly the same music as birds. If you were lucky or unlucky you might hear the laughter of another person. This was a different morning one so common the previous occupants of the city would have been disturbed, silence.

If you happened to be in the vicinity of Archway tube station you would hear a whistling coming from the depths of the tube line.

The darkness went mainly undisturbed in these tunnels; it was infested with all sorts of radiated monsters that were best left to their own devices down in the tunnels. As it was a rarity that they dared stray up to the surface. This was where the phantom whistling was coming from, from the top of the dead escalators nothing but this high whistling.

Then a flickering light appeared at the foot of these escalators. The light appeared to be spilling from one of the tunnels and was bobbing in a walking rhythm. The whistling gradually faded into a humming sound with one or two notes being whistled. Then all at once brilliant light spilled out from round the corner as a figure span the corner holding a torch.

"Some whereeee beyond the seaaaaa, she's thereeee waitin' for meeee" the figure approached the bottom of the stairs with a saunter and began striding up the escalator taking them two at a time.

"if I could fly like birds on highhhhh, then straight to her arms I'd go sailin'" the young man sang, apparent by his voice, deep and soothing and perhaps if times were different he could have made a living with it.

The young man reached the top of the escalators and flinched at the bright morning sun spilling into the tube station. He seemed displeased by the morning sun and stopped singing and he looked down to his wrist and tapped the old wrist watch that lived there. He put it next to his ear and could tell it had broken and took it off his wrist and tossed it aside in the debris that was scattered around the entrance.

The young man appeared in his early twenties and was dressed in a ragged assortment of clothes. He covered his chest and arms in and old military style black jumper with padding on the shoulders on the elbows. Around his shoulders and draping down to his feet he wore a torn and damaged black cloak, with a hood. An old bandoleer was bound to his chest with several pouches on it containing all sorts of trinkets. He wore some old fingerless gloves which had protection over the knuckles. To go with his old military hardware he had an old service satchel still brandishing its red cross to resemble the medic.

His trousers were a khaki green combats and were very muddy un-tucked out of his black ankle supporting boots which themselves were worn and scuffed. He also had knee pads on matching his elbow ones. His belt was a similar style to his bandoleer and had pouches along it but on its side was a holster where an old service revolver sat in a comfortable fashion next to an sheathed military sabre. His second gun and old Lee-Enfield no.4 mk1 was draped over his right should and was clearly looked after.

His hair was past his ears and unkempt matted with sweat and grease and slicked back to keep it out of his eyes. He was clean shaven though and clearly made an effort to remain so. His features were pointy and mousy; not the best looking man to work the globe but had a childish charm behind his eyes and smile.

The watch which was cast aside flew through the air and clanked off something metallic. There was quick rustling noise straight afterwards. The young man looked in the direction of the rustling but didn't move his torchlight. The sound of the noise was just out of the sunlight near the top of the escalators. He moved his right hand down and pulled out the revolver slowly and cocking it as he did so.

He turned his body, looked, angled the torchlight in the direction of the noise then pointed his gun there.

In the gloom suddenly lit was a body of a fully armoured man. A gaping hole in his chest where he had been hit by some heavy explosive, which was the only reason that strong armour would allowed such a big hole in. By his feet lay the old watch; more importantly struggling on some of the innards was a wild dog. It's grunting and snuffling was inaudible over the young man's singing before now they were quite loud. The dog now aware it was being watched stopped its snack and turned on the man. Growling and snarling at its new found opponent.

The man rolled his eyes, "Seriously!" he sighed. He holstered his gun and bent down and picked up a largish piece of rubble as the dog began to bark. He stared and the dog and considered it for a moment as it snarled away guarding its prized meal.

Bouncing the rock in rock in his hand he took aim and then much like a pitcher and a baseball game cast the rock into the air. It struck the dog straight in the head, without a yelp but a sickening crack sound, dead. The dog slumped to the floor blood oozing out of its crushed head.

The man seemed surprised at his own throw and smiled in victory. "Win some you, you lose some." He mused and walked over to the corpse and took off his satchel and cloak laying them near the armoured man's feet. He looked at the power armour and the insignia at the collar. A white lion with a crown on it, stood out on the red power armour.

"Royal Guards? What were you doing around here?" He looked at the armour for a while longer then reached up and took the helmet off to revealing the dead man's face. He hadn't decomposed much so could only be a week dead and most.

He juggled the helmet a while then spoke again to the corpse, "Well I know a man who'll pay handsomely for this,(holding up the helmet) and" he reached up and yanked the holotag from the corpse's neck "Mr...Smith guess your comrades at the palace will want to know you're no longer with us." He placed the tag in one of his pouches and placed the helmet down next to his own belongings.

He moved the corpse forward, a little hard due to rigour mortis, and the heavy armour. He cut the dead man's backpack off of him with a knife he grabbed from his own satchel.

He then sifted through the contents and pulled out a few cartridges for a shotgun and then smiled as he pulled some .303 cartridges from there as well, just the right ones for his rifle.

He continued and found a few personal but useless mementos. Then his hand clunked into a cold hard object. He pulled it out and smiled and the Nuka-Cola bottle.

"Thank you Mr. Smith" he said patting the corpse's leg, "Some ammo, breakfast" he indicated the dog, "and something cold to wash it down with"

He then began to make a small fire out of some of the dead man's bag and lit it with an old lighter from a pouch. He cut some meat of the dog and skinned it. He pulled out a small square pan out of his own bag and began to fry to meat on the fire and sipped at the Nuka-Cola.

He leant against the wall opposite the body and raised his open bottle to the corpse.

"Cheers" .


	2. Chapter 2

The young man sat around the entrance to the tube station having finished his meal of dog. He was sat against a wall opposite the armoured corpse and was reading a book with as he held the last remnants of the Nuka-Cola in his hand.

He was sat enjoying himself and then took a breath as he prepared to swallow what was left of his precious drink. The bottle touched his lips then suddenly a screech came from the towards the tube line. He jumped in fright and spilt most of his drink down him. His heart raced he cursed and he wiped the dampness away from himself. Annoyed he sighed and threw the bottle down the escalators. He heard it shatter and it was followed by another screech.

Knowing the sound and what creature it was coming from he decided it best to pack up and go as opposed to baiting it more. He stood up put his satchel back on and his cloak then putting the helmet under one arm he set out into the sunlight of the morning.

He stood looking out at the cross roads knowing exactly where he was going but there was no use rushing unless he wanted to get himself killed. It wasn't safe any where these days unless you were in a settlement. However he needed to unload himself of the valuable helmet. Looking about in the sun a bit longer he headed west in the direction of Stablestown.

There was a certain man there who would need the helmet and it would be out of the way of a certain organisation who would simply demand it back. Walking he kept a constant ear out for any sounds of trouble. He doubt he would run into any around here he was too close to a human settlement to attract the attention of Super Mutants. Ghouls or dogs were his worst problems and judging by his earlier victory the dogs weren't much of a problem.

He smiled thinking of his earlier fortune it was a lucky throw and one that had earned him a nice breakfast. A warm wind blew across the city stirring up the ash that littered the floor and as he walked his cloak billowed out behind him and he was forced to raise his hood up just to protect his face and he dug into his pouches on his belt and pulled out some old welding goggles that had plain glass in them and put those on to protect his eyes. He would have used the helmet but it was so heavy and muggy in there.

He looked up at an old office block and could see a light was on in the top floor, knowing the area well it was one of the fore scouts for Stablestown (The town that used to be Camden many years ago). He thought about ascending the stairs to speak to the scouts to see if there was any news, they were normally the people to ask about the comings and goings as they remained free from the politics of situations and would give you a black and white view.

He decided against it eager to get rid of the dead weight under his arm that he'd already had to swap arms five times now. Soon enough though he came round a decrepit building he saw the gates of Stablestown. With a smile and a new energy brought on but the new sight of the gates he spurred himself on.

He approached the gates guards a man and woman. Both dressed in the guards uniform a blue boiler suit with armour woven into it and old police riot helmets.

"Halt!" the rather weedy young man said holding up his hand.

The young man carrying his helmet stopped still smiling knowing the formalities of the town very well.

"What's your name and purpose in Stablestown?" The guard asked in a monosyllabic voice.

"I have goods to sell," he held up the helmet, "I'm here to see Caesar, this is his sort of thing. My name is Clayton he knows me well if you wish to check" he lowered the helmet back under his right arm.

"No need your trade seems genuine." The guard replied and pulled a whistle out of his pocket and then with a crack and groan the gates started to open slowly. "Advance you may pass." He said beckoning Clayton over.

Smiling Clayton walked forwards and patted the guard on the shoulder. He didn't know the guards name but he'd seen him working the gates before and sure he'd been accosted by him before. As soon as he had passed the wall the gates began to close behind him. Taking a moment to pull his hood down and then remove his goggles. He walked past some more guards who had their guns unslung and in their hands. They looked at him coldly as he trudged through the muddy ground of Stablestown.

Stablestown was relatively large as outposts went there were the old markets surrounding an old stone bridge. Most people lived in huts inside the old buildings, that were still standing. The old ditch that had once been the canal in old London town was now full again but only because the residents had blocked it off at both ends with their wall that was almost a perfect circle around the old markets. It acted as their own little reservoir, providing you boiled the water first and put it through the filtration systems that several citizens had erected around the town.

There were some wooden huts in the open areas that had been raised as people came here to live and there were one or two buildings being made again from stone. The wall around Stablestown was around twenty foot high and protected the citizens well. With guards station on the roofs overlooking the walls they could see trouble before it happened. Along with the outside guards and the scouts they were well protect.

In what was the stable market now housed the town's livestock and almost everyone worked to keep the animals going and some of the vegetables they managed to grow, even if they were deformed and often tasteless. The ground was open and free from tarmac that the residents had dug up to reveal the ground beneath. Hence the vast amounts of mud.

Clayton hated the mud in this town, it was everywhere. However there was no sign of the stuff from the outside just the dust of the city. His turned his face up to the sky and looked at the clouds. There was probably going to be rain today judging by the speed of the wind and the ominous looking clouds on the horizon.

He knew exactly where he was heading and though the mud slowed him down it didn't stop his determined steps. He head to the other big building that wasn't the stables and eventually reached dry land and took a moment to clean his boots of on the old cobbles. Several people walked past him some of them recognising him, others seeing him for the first time.

After scraping them sufficiently he took stock of the surrounding area the large open base of the market had stalls in where shops sold their wares to travellers and citizens alike. The stalls were around the bases of the columns that supported the large building. Forming a corridor of stalls that one could walk down and have stalls at either side. At the end of this thoroughfare was a door in the wall which had two armed guards either side of it. Above the stalls were the overhangs where if you took one of the many doors you could take stairs up to them, there were mainly living quarters for mainly the rich of Stablestown.

Clayton walked down the corridor with stall owners yelling at him trying to flog him some deal, of some sorts. He wasn't distracted by them though he marched towards the door at the end gripping his trophy under his arm knowing its worth to the man on the other side. He reached the door and nodded a greeting to the guards who did recognise him.

"Clayton, good to see you again." The one on the right said.

"You too John." Clayton responded.

John leaned over and rapped on the door with his hand and the panel at eye height slid open to reveal a dark set of eyes behind.

"Boss' has got a visitor." John said.

The panel slid back and the door began to unbolt from the other side. After a series of clanks the door then creaked open. Behind stood a giant of a man who didn't have a gun on him however he didn't look like he needed in all fairness. He was so tall that in the small opening area he couldn't stand up straight and looked down over Clayton.

"Hey Brick, how are you?" Clayton said cheerily.

Brick only grunted in response. Clayton squeezed in and patted the giant man on the elbow, for that's all he could reach.

"Much the same then?" Clayton smiled as he walked into the main room of the dimly light area.

Brick grunted and smiled. He couldn't talk hadn't been able to since birth apparently, or so Clayton had been told. He was incredibly bright considering he couldn't read or write. He was a useful asset to the township and would put his great size to work with the animals when he wasn't guarding his boss during his working hours that was.

Clayton walked out into a large open room with large shelves laid out in rows. On these selves were a horde of guns. He'd been in this room many times in his travels and he'd never seen an armoury to compete with it. At the end of the room was counter which was empty right now minus the usual occupant. There were enough for each type of gun to have its own section devoted to it. He always walked past the section containing the shotguns each time encase one caught his eye to replace the one he lost around a year ago. He wondered in and began to look around at the guns.

He approached the shelves for the shotguns, plenty of double barrel and a few pump action ones littered the shelves. They were all large twelve gauges capable of causing severe injury and close range. One caught his eye; it had a old double barrel one on top of it. He placed the helmet on the floor and then plunged his hand in and pulled it out.

It was an old pump action shotgun. He'd never seen one like it before, it had to be two foot long at the most. It had a pistol grip on its pump as well as the trigger end and felt good in his hands. It was smooth and comfortable as he slid the pump action with ease.

"You looking to buy Clayton, for once?" A voice said.

Clayton looked up and beamed at the old man he was sat behind the counter now his hands together and in front of him. Sat like a business man at his desk talking to a new client.

"How much?" he said.

"More than you could afford" The old man replied.

"Ah, well I think I could change your mind on that." Clayton replied placing the shotgun back.

"I doubt..." the old man began but Clayton pulled the helmet of the shelf into the old man's field of vision. He stared as Clayton walked towards the counter.

"Where did you find that?" the old man asked.

"This well I found it on a man who won't be needing it anymore." Clayton replied as he placed it down on the counter.

"For the shotgun?" he asked tapping it.

The old man looked at it a while and then consider Clayton. "No, but it'll get you some more ammo for that nice rifle of yours." He said.

"Oh come on Caesar we both know how much you're after power armour for the town's guards." Clayton responded slipping into bargaining mode. He liked Caesar but didn't like feeling like he was being ripped off.

Caesar was one of the three members of the council in Stablestown, voted in as the town operated as a democracy. The whole town every four years would take a vote on who would lead their city and keep them safe and running. Caesar was voted in to take care of the cities defence and civil obedience, despite being a trader and he at the time wished to be governor of the merchants. He was voted in to the defence so now used the town's armoury as a store but would only broker deals that would benefit the town. The town had prospered for it. However he was desperate for power armour to keep the towns guards well protected from bandit or mutant attacks. They were infrequent but everyone ended with one or two guards dead and they were loses that the town couldn't afford they didn't have the man power to sustain the farming they did and the guards at the rate they were going. It was known to Clayton through various contacts that Caesar had contact the Brotherhood of Steel for help or to buy power armour off them. They had not been entirely helpful, they couldn't afford the man power or risk selling them power armour. However they had sent him the specifics to make their own. Now they were after power armour of the materials to make them Clayton knew there was a suit only two hours walk from where they now spoke.

"Yes exactly power armour not one helmet." Caesar replied tapping it. "If you had a full set or armour we could talk. "

Clayton considered this offer for a moment. "Okay then, I can't give you a full suit of armour but I can tell you where to find one." He offered.

"Did you think I was born..." Caesar snapped.

However Clayton held up a hand to silence him, "To answer your question no, I don't however I know the guards do everything to you tell them. How about I let you send them they could be back within a few hours and then we broker some sort of deal."

Caesar eyed him cautiously, "My men would be walking into a trap would they?" he said

"Nope, I came there myself a few hours ago. I will point out it does have a big hole in its chest but I'm sure it's repairable by your technicians in town."

"How big?"

"You'll have to judge for yourself."

"Right well I can't spend the men right now I'll send them tonight, I trust you can stick around?"

"I'm sure I can hang around."

Caesar didn't reply he just stared at Clayton, after a few seconds of silence Caesar parted his hands annoyed, "Well where is it then?"

"Oh...yeah sure...for the shotgun?" Clayton replied

"Of course, well judging on its condition." They shook hands.

"Good, it's at Archway tube station." Clayton said smiling

"I'll see you tomorrow morning just before midday?" Caesar asked

"Count on it." Clayton gave him a sly salute and turned towards the door, leaving the helmet behind congratulating himself on a good deal. He was going to get himself a drink.


	3. Chapter 3

Clayton left the armory and headed down towards columns of market stalls, hundreds of people we're passing the stalls browsing wares and the food on offer. Some weapons were on display for the passing travelers.

He stopped and looked along the wares on offer then headed towards a stall selling all sorts of fruit, some recognizable some of it not.

As he bustled through the crowds he came face to face with the unclean merchant, he'd clearly just come off working his crops and was covered in dirt dressed in rags and had very few teeth left.

"Whatta ya buyin stranger?" the merchant cracked out of a broken voice.

Clayton smiled and browsed the fruit a little longer. Apples, grapes, something that was supposed to resemble bananas, strawberries, blueberries and raspberries. He picked up two apples, the cleanest and juiciest ones on offer.

"I'll take these please" he replied and juggled them in his hands.

"1 cap-sir" the merchants said, in his slurred accent probably more from having no teeth, holding out his hand for payment.

Clayton stopped juggling the apples and reached into one of his pouches and pulled out the cap of the Nuka-Cola bottle he drank earlier.

"He he Thank you!" the merchant said quickly placing the cap in one of his pockets like it was the last cap in the world.

Clayton looked at the strange speaking man curious about his strange way of speaking, then he smiled took a bit of one of his apples and turned round flat into the chest of a very tall and muscular man. stunned and a little shocked at what had just happened he stepped back and looked up expecting to see Brick in front of him coming to get him for some reason. He looked up and it wasn't, that was a very bad thing.

There were two men in Stablestown known for their great stature one was Brick, the other was Ox it wasn't his real name. Clayton had no idea what his name was, didn't care what it was. All he knew was he was a troublesome man. Who considered himself judge, jury and executioner in Stablestown. He had no affiliation to the governing council, and was nothing more than a low level gangster. He ran with a group of men who picked on outsiders for passage money and "allowing" them to use the shops. They were the bane of the guards lives and it was difficult to prove anything against them. As the always seemed to disappear quickly whenever real trouble started.

Clayton took another bite of his apple casually looking up at the monstrous man.

Rumor was that his father was a super mutant half breed, which was highly unlikely. His looks could vouch for it along with the giant forehead. He wore a large leather vest type shirt that he'd made a ham handed attempt to stud with little metal spikes most had fallen off, he also wore some big black trousers that were ripped in various places and probably two sizes to small for the ape. He had two companions either side of him that weren't any where near as tall but were similarly dressed.

"Ox...*munch*...what can I do for you or have you just had to stop there a minute for some air...*munch* I've heard the air up there is rather thin* Clayton grinned whilst delightfully eating is apple with his mouth open.

"Clayton how are you and the rest of the rats?" Ox boomed in reply, clearly not even acknowledging Clayton earlier mock.

"Oh, fine as usual, what's it to you...*munch*...and your friends?" He gulped down the pulped apple.

"Well it's just strange to see you here, as last Rat that was here we made it very clear you hadn't paid your tab. You owe the "community" a lot of money." Ox said looking and smiling over his shoulder as he said "community".

"Ha...*munch*" Clayton said looking at his apple the whole time.

A silence passed between the four men, and the two behind Ox shifted nervously. They briefly glanced at one another waiting for their signal from Ox.

A few had stopped amongst the market stalls to watch the stand off. The merchant behind Clayton was clearly making an effort to tidy up knowing his stall would be involved in the ensuing brawl.

"...*munch*..." Clayton swallowed again.

"Did I say something funny?" Ox said his tone switching from lighthearted bullying for a serious deadpan one.

"Yeah...*munch*...that joke you made" Clayton dropped the apple core to the floor and flicked his other apple from his left to his right hand.

"I see, well unfortunately for you and the rest of your Rats, until you've paid your tab, you ain't welcome IEEEEEE" he broke off as Clayton launched his apple straight into the giant's groin. Ox keeled over to grasp his scrotum and as his head came down Clayton's boot came up striking him in the face and probably causing him to loose some of his precious few teeth.

Ox's companions launched forward and pushed him as Clayton was still of balance. He collided into the poorly made stall and he toppled over it causing it to fall with him. Fruit sprayed off in all directions. One toppled with Clayton as he planted a hand on his shirt cuff and yanked him along for the ride. The other was left watching the chaos unfold in front of him.

As the pair landed Clayton landed a flurry of blows on the opponent. He got on top and continued his punches. The man tried in vein to stop the blows. The other man had quickly followed them round and he stuck Clayton in the back with an old crowbar. He yelped and rolled off the man. He was quick to his feet though and saw the two men, the one having helped the other to his feet. The crowbar man grinned at Clayton and the other bent down and picked up a chunk of broken wood.

He knew he couldn't pull a gun on them, doing so would resort in a ban from the settlement, even if it was in self defense. He tossed to rifle of his back and flung his cloak over his left shoulder getting it out the way and he reached down for his saber and drew it from it's sheath. He smiled at the two.

He issued a "bring it!" action with his left hand. The man with the crowbar was first going for and overhead strike. Clayton parried upwards and his sword got caught under the hook over the crowbar. He was quick to bring his foot up into the other man's gut to push him away. The man made a whooshing sound as he was winded by the blow. The other man was coming in at the same time with a lump of wood. Again with an overhead strike.

Clayton altered his angle to face the new opponent, he swiped across and sliced the wood in two leaving it useless as a weapon. The man glanced down at the wood and Clayton followed it up with a smash from his pommel. The man went down quickly like a sack of potatoes. He span and ran to the other man recovering from his winding and smashed him in the face with his boot knocking him out.

He was about to revel in his own victory when something smashed the side of his head. He scattered on to his hip away from the fallen stall. He let go off the sword as he fell and while he was recovering he saw Ox marching towards him and the same apple he thrown into the man's groin lying on the floor near him. Clayton lunged for the sabre but Ox was there too quick and kicked it away from him.

"I'm'a gonna kick the shit out you Rat!" he spat as he reached down and grabbed him by the collar hoisting up above his own head. Clayton flailed the big man's grip trying to break free as a fist struck him in the centre of the stomach. He cried out as the air left his lungs.

Then suddenly like he saw a blur shoot out from the crowd it was man gunning straight for Ox. He shoulder barged Ox straight in his side hitting his ribs. Ox toppled over and let go of Clayton and he fell clumsily like falling out of a tree. He struck the ground and rolled to see the other man engaging Ox.

He was dressed in a pair of jeans that were still quite new, along with a pair of military boots. He had two revolvers on his hips much like an western gunslinger. He also wore an old oilskin duster coat over the top of a plain t-shirt and a criss crossed bandoleers on his chest. He also had an old gas mask underneath his chin clearly hung there for ease to put on and off quickly.

Ox looked up at the gunslinger man as a fist came down at him. Ox took the punch squarely in the face. It didn't seem to face him one bit. He reached up and dump tackled the gunslinger down into the mud. Getting on top of him ready to probably beat him to death.

Clayton scrabbled up and rushed for his sword, scoping it up he rushed to the aid of his own aider. He reached Ox before he managed to land a blow on the man. Clayton slid the sword beneath his chin. Ox recognizing the feel of steel against his throat held his oncoming punch in the air.

"That's it Ox...now get the fuck off him and back up!" he said guiding the man with his blade.

Ox got off the man and backed up stood at his full height as Clayton keeping an eye on him.

"Hey you drop your sword now!" A guard shouted, Clayton saw them bustling through the crowd. He recognized a few from his previous visits, the first too him forced his hand down away from Ox and he took the sword from him a few others followed behind him began to put him in handcuffs. They did the same to Ox.

"You put that young man down." A voice shouted, Clayton glanced over his shoulder and saw Caesar hobbling over towards them accompanied by Brick.

"My men saw most of the fight and our young traveller did not start this he was defending himself." he beckoned the guards.

"Oh of course sir," the guard with his hand on Clayton's shoulder said and undid his handcuffs.

"Thanks old man," He turned to see his helper in the fight and recognized the grinning face instantly.

"Mordred! What the hell are you doing here?" He gasped

"I've been sent to fetch you" the gunslinger replied.


	4. Chapter 4

Some time later the pair sat in the corner of the Broken Flute, Stablestown only legitimate brothel and general tavern. Where one could get anything from a comfy bed to sleep in too some company for that bed.

Clayton and Mordred sat at a round table with a metal tumbler each, the contents of which was supposed to be whiskey but Clayton had tasted better rain water. They huddled over the small candle that illuminated their small private area.

The Broken Flute was packed as usual the clients ranged from the regular workers of Stablestowns to the travelers who were simply passing through. The girls and boys went from table to table making sure all their clients were happy and cared to their needs. It wasn't simply men who frequented the Broken Flute for its comfort service. Groups of women were involved in the frivolities as young handsome men catered to their tables.

A small band of flutes, fiddles and drums, sat on the small stage opposite the bar, and were singing old folk songs, whose lyrics could be described at best interesting. The bar was cocooned in crimson fabrics that reflected the light from the roaring fire in the centre in a comforting yet mysterious way.

"So Rey has called a nest meeting then?" Clayton asked his friend. "Where?"

A young girl giggled as a patron chased after her past their table.

"It would seem so, we're to meet him at the Palace...big job apparently" Mordred replied looking across the tavern his eye clearly catching something

"The Palace! who else has been called? Al? Needle? Clayton asked curiously

"All of us" Mordred replied returning his gaze back to his friend.

"The whole team for one job at the Palace? This must be a massive job" He paused smiling and looked out into the tavern then a look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Wait wait wait...we're not being payed to help the Brotherhood?"

"No idea, I guess it must be if it's the Palace perhaps the King wants to see us" Mordred laughed.

"Now wouldn't that be something the Tunnel Rats meeting royalty...you better dig out your best frock." Clayton slapped his friend on the shoulder in a friendly way as if emphasizing his point.

"You might want to consider a shower if that's the case." Mordred replied his wit even faster than that of Clayton's

The happy pair laughed and finished what was left of their whiskeys.

"Another drink?" Mordred asked standing up

"One more then I'm not rushing till Caesar has got that power armor, that I told you about earlier."

"Fair enough we've two days till we need to be at the palace any way, should make it easily with the tunnels."

Clayton smiled at his friend, then Mordred turned and walked to the bar. Clayton looked around the bar and listened to the music he thought of the journey ahead and what perhaps would be waiting for them at the palace. He was curious what could the palace want with them? Would it have anything to do with the dead palace guard he found? He pulled out the holotags from one of the pouches on his belt and dangled them of the end of one of his fingers thinking ahead.

"Evening stranger" a high pitched voiced said.

He looked up into the eyes of a young blonde woman. What little cleavage she had was on display between a white v-neck shirt complimenting a small red tartan style skirt with suspenders and white stockings. There was no doubt of her profession. He eyed her up and down.

"Good evening miss." he said smiling

"fancy a little company?" she leaned over and placed her tray on the table.

"I'm with a friend at the moment I'm afraid" he smiled, not disgusted by her but simply not in the mood at the present.

"Awww, well I'm sure I could share my time between you." she said seductively

Clayton let out a small laugh, "I'm afraid as tempting as that sounded your barking up the wrong tree for my friend at the bar over there."

"Well that's a shame, be nice to spend some time with someone who doesn't have dirt under their fingernails and last longer than a minute." she replied clearly disappointed

"If you come back in around half an hour I'll prove one of those things right...I do try to keep my fingernails clean though." he replied grinning,

She didn't reply but simply pouted sexily and then walk away with her tray.

Mordred returned soon after the girl and placed a tankard of ale down in front of him.

"Whiskey was terrible, I'm sure you'll agree."

"Definitely" Clayton replied and they clanked their drinks together and took a big gulp each from the frothy mixture.

"You're still rattling around with that old service revolver I saw." Mordred said taking another sip from the ale.

They'd had to leave their guns in storage at the door. There were no weapons at allowed in the Broken Flute and the guard bots on the door saw to that. A large destructotron loomed next to the door and peered into the Broken Flute with unmoving eyes. It's face, or closest thing it had to a face, was locked into a permanent grimace. It didn't have any hands despite it's mainly humanoid form simply to arms that ended in gatling guns.

Next to it sat an ancient protectron, guarding the small man at the armory where everyone had to leave their weapons. The destructotron's scanning abilities made sure no one got a weapon in. The locals had affectionately named the robots Tom and Jerry.

"Yeah served me well so far but just on the look out for something to replace it. Should remedy that soon though." Clayton explained

" 'bout time watching you lug around that useless gun broke my heart so it did." Mordred said feigning sadness.

"You know what that sarcasm...it's a prime reason why no one likes you..." Clayton said gulping some more ale.

"Fuck me and I thought everyone loved my charm and wit." Mordred said crassly

"Well no they don't"

"You know what I've had enough of you Clayton and your crappy taste in guns I'm off to get a quickie and a bed for the night." Mordred said finishing his ale and standing up.

"We can't all afford guns like your revolvers!" Clayton jibbed after his friend as he disappeared into the throng of the patrons.

Clayton leaned back in his seat still laughing, he raised his tankard up to his lips and then heard a familiar voice.

"Your friend didn't stick around long then."

He span round and saw the blonde girl again with her tray resting against her hip making a fake sad face.

"No he's a bit difficult to pin down."

"Ya got some time to spare then handsome?" she asked slyly.

He patted his lap indicating that she should sit there. Smiling she did as she was bid, as she sat down he looked across the bar to see Mordred in deep conversation with a young good looking man.

"What's your name?" he asked

"Amber" she replied

"Well Amber I have all the time in the world for you."


	5. Chapter 5

The room was much like the bar downstairs, lots of crimson material draped across the walls and there was a small fireplace that was just embers now only the faintness of warmth remained. It didn't matter any more now though the sun was out and it was a hot day outside. Clayton lay in the old cast iron bed, Amber's arm wrapped over his chest. The bed was very well made and he lay comfortably on the feather stuffed mattress.

He pulled her arm off of his chest and laid it comfortably next to her. Sweeping back the sheet he swung his legs out of the bed and sat at the edge. He put his head in his hands and sighed, deeply. He hated the kind of things he did when he was drunk.

Thinking back to his childhood he remembered his time with his father. His father had been a widower most of his life. Clayton never knew his mother, but his father had always taught him to live his life well and to treat all others properly. He grew up in a small town with his father up in northern England. In a a village very different to where he left now. He remembered the greenery fondly, the endless trees and the fields where the village made their living.

Britain had faired reasonably in the aftermath of the resource wars. The bombs had destroyed the major cities but large pockets of countryside remained untouched. The city of Newcastle hadn't even been hit. It was the diseases that followed that were the main problems for those that survived, without proper running water and a stable society to protect them people had died and quickly. After the radiation had gone through the amount of half lives to be harmless the doors to the bomb vaults had opened and society had started to pick up the war and why the vaults were necessary were a mystery to Clayton.

His father had told him that his grandfather had come out of a vault. Clayton when he was a child once tried to find the vault. It was supposed to be in one of the caves near his home, he never found it. He'd only found trouble in those caves.

*_Ka-Chunk_* There was solitary metallic knock at the door.

Clayton felt his head shift about ten different directions at once.

"Come in" he croaked, he shifted the blankets to cover his nakedness. The door flew open and Jerry stood on the other side. He was to tall to get through the door but he didn't need to get in.

"Master Caesar...re...re...re...quests y-y-your presence at the armory s...s-s-sir" The old robot drawled out. His old voice box was in need of repair but no one in the town knew how to fix it.

"Thank's Jerry...I'll be right there." He replied rubbing his head.

"Go-o-o...ood day sir" The old robot replied and then turned and "_ka-chunk'ed" _his way down the corridor.

Clayton stood up and closed the door behind the robot. He then walked over to the chair next to the bed. His clothes were in a pile there he quickly put on his pants, trousers and boots. He reached under the pillow and pulled out his revolver. He snapped it apart and looked at the chambers. Two bullets, that's all he had left for it. He stood in silent contemplation for a few seconds. Then he snapped it closed again.

He put on the rest of his clothes as quickly as his hangover would allow. Slipping the gun into his holster he then sat back on the bed with his rifle. Pulling the bolt back he looked down into the gun. Still clean, clean enough for a straight shot any way. He locked the bolt back and placed it on the bed next to him.

He pulled open his pack and looked into three clean bandages and four poultices. Next his bandoleer, thirty rounds still left for his rifle. That was good. He'd got some stray bullets left in his pack that he'll try to trade Caesar for some for his guns.

Standing up he pulled his rifle onto his shoulder across his back. He reached into one of his pouches on his belt and pulled out some money.

The monarchy that ran the country had introduced money, instead of using bottle caps like they did in the former U.S.A. There were notes and coins, no one knew the process on how to make the notes any more, apart from those in the royal court. So forging wasn't a problem for them.

He pulled out a ten credit note and placed at the foot of the bed for Amber to find when she woke. He'd already paid the madame downstairs but he wanted to make sure Amber got some more.

He looked the skinny woman up and down, she looked like she dam well needed the money more than he did. If she was awake he would have thanked her for making him feel good for an evening and pretending very well that she liked him.

He sighed, and with the sigh turned and left the room.

A few minutes later he arrived at the armory door, having left a note with the tavern staff to tell Mordred to meet him here.

"Still here John?" Clayton smiled to young guard.

"Yeah just...no thanks to you!" he curtly replied.

"Me? what did I do?" Clayton taken back by the guard's sterness

"Casaer sent my and Brick to fetch your bloody power armor! You could have told him about the dam mutants lurking around!"

"Mutants?"

"Yeah you know those big green fuckers...like to eat us but not before toying with us first."

"I'm sorry John, when I found the suit it was completely clear."

"Whatever..." with that john leaned back and knocked on the door.

Again the shutter swung across to reveal Brick's scowling face.

"Clayton is 'ere" John said.

The shutter swung back and several bolts were undone and the door swung open. Clayton stepped forward into the darkness. Brick gave out a low growl.

"I'm sorry Brick I didn't know there were mutants around. Look I'll leave some money at the Broken Flute behind the bar for you. You and John get yourselves a drink on me tonight." Clayton said apologetically.

Brick smiled and thumped Clayton in the shoulder, clearly forgiving him. Clayton was knocked off balance but tried not to show it.

"Thanks Clayton I know it aint you fault really." John said.

"Least I could do" Clayton smiled, knowing that it was better to have the guards like you than have their scorn.

He walked straight into the back where he knew Caesar would be waiting. Sure enough there he was sat behind his desk. He looked sour faced as usual and Clayton raised a hand in greeting him. Caesar frowned at him briefly then took a gun he was cleaning off the desk in front of him and put it in a draw.

"Clayton, a trust you enjoyed the sights our town had to offer last night?" he asked knowing full well where he'd spent his night.

"You know me Caesar." Clayton smiled back, "I heard your men ran into some trouble finding that power armor."

"Nothing they couldn't handle" he replied waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"So to our deal then."

"Indeed no point hanging around. The armor is in decent nick however I believe you were after the shotgun was it. I'm willing to part with the gun for the armor but your going to need to add something for the cartridges I have."

Clayton thought it over in his pained head and then reached down to his belt and undid the holster for his revolver, wrapping the leather around the gun he placed it on the counter in front of Caesar and then routing through his bag he dug out some bullets he didn't need not having the right guns for them. Making sure to keep the three shotgun shells he had.

"How's that?" Clayton said.

Caesar was already inspecting the gun, he snapped it open saw the two bullets inside, took them out and looked into all the chambers and smiled then snapped it shut.

'It's a deal" he said.

Clayton grinned.

Half an hour later Clayton was waiting outside the armory for Mordred. He was enjoying the sunshine and reading his book. He was sporting his new shotgun which sat in place on his right thigh in a strap. It ran the length of his thigh and was much bigger than a pistol but it wouldn't restrict his movements. He'd moved the saber to his back knowing he wouldn't want it clattering around his legs for the coming journey.

He was just about to turn the page of his book when a shadow loomed over him. He looked up seeing Mordred's grinning face.

"Good Morning Sunshine." he said. All the time that Clayton had known him the man had never had a hangover.

"Mornin'" he replied closing his book and standing up.

"I see you took my advice and ditched that awful handgun." he pointed out.

"Ha! of course because I take all my advice off of you." Clayton replied, "Come on lets get going I want to reach the Palace by tonight at least."

The pair walked towards the southern gate of Stablestown. The town was in full flow and people were going to the market and the hustle and bustle of the area was loud, to the point where Clayton and Mordred had to raise their voices to be heard.

Near the gate there was a small fabricated with a single scrawny man on it. He was dressed in rags and clearly hadn't shaved in a good many years. Behind him on this stage was a red banner with a hammer and sickle on it. He was yelling to a growing crowd.

"Come my comrades, now is the time to act. With the Royalist armies moving south to combat our brothers in arms we can strike a blow to the very central of this bourgeois society. Why should we work hard in the fields for the brotherhood and the nobles to take away our money and live like gods?" there were some murmurs of agreement from the crowd but it wasn't exactly an enthralled crowd

"Another one of those." Mordred said rolling his eyes

"Who is he?" Clayton asked

"A communist the term is I think. They're all about equality and a saying this and that about the king and how it's time to tear down the establishment. There's a few in the southern towns since I last went none this far north before though." he explained

"Okay" Clayton said frowning not understanding the guy, but accepting what Mordred was saying. Clayton never went south of the river he didn't like the area and there was never enough work so he'd have to take Mordred's view on it.

Mordred laughed and whirled his finger around his ear, indicating madness.

Clayton grinned in response and the two hurriedly left the town.


End file.
